


The course of true love never did run smooth

by donnawanderedoff



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 18th Century, A masked ball, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dancing, F/M, Other, Queen Abby and Royal Guard Marcus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-29 02:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnawanderedoff/pseuds/donnawanderedoff
Summary: Taking a deep breath Marcus gazes at her, not knowing how to react. He’s dumbfounded thatshe, the woman that had captured his heart so many years ago without even realising what she had done, reciprocates his affection. Not trusting his voice he gives her a short nod and bows. It’s only after a couple of seconds that he manages to address her, his voice still trembling with heavy emotion. "Would your Highness do me the honour of accepting this dance?""She would love nothing more,” she replies with a smile so bright all the precious stones adorning her mask pale in comparison.





	The course of true love never did run smooth

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens whenever I have to travel by public transportation, I get ideas like this ^^ I've always wanted to write a Queen Abby story and _naturally_ , I had to make Marcus head of the Queen's guard. 
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this little thing.

"Royal balls really are rather tedious, won't you agree?"

Marcus turns his observant gaze away from the dance floor and towards the voice, only to come face to face with the one person he’d been trying his best to avoid ever since the start of the ball.

She’s dressed in a stunning dark green dress which consists of several layers of silken skirts adorned with golden embroidments. The bodice of the dress is form fitted as the corset accentuates the slope of her hips while giving him a tantalising glimpse of her bosom. The sleeves hug her arms only to flare out as they reach her elbows, causing them to move in a flurry of silk whenever she moved her arms.

Her hair is braided and held together with a clasp at the back of her neck, as several errant curls escape her carefully done hairdo, framing her lovely face. Fresh green leaves were intertwined throughout the braid, making him think back of the stories his mother used to read to him about forest nymphs. Since it’s a masked ball, her outfit is completed with a golden mask which covers the upper part of her face. The mask has streaks of dark green on it and it’s adorned with little stones and a large emerald that’s placed on her forehead. Even though the mask does its best to disguise the woman’s features, Marcus would recognise those striking eyes anywhere. Especially when they’re twinkling with mischief like they are right now.

Unable to suppress a tiny twitch of his lips, he bows before her.

"Oh, I don't know about that milady. The current company is rather excellent."

At that, she emits a soft laugh. "Hmm, I must say that I agree with you on that account sir.”

With a raised eyebrow, Marcus realises that she’s pretending not to recognise him. That was, after all, the purpose of a masked ball, not knowing who you’re talking to or dancing with. If that’s what she wants, who was he to deny her? So he decides to play along and replies by giving her a polite nod.

"So why is someone looking as dashing as yourself standing by the sidelines? And all alone?” Abby wonders as she lets her gaze wander across his form, causing him to reflexive straighten his posture at her obvious appraisal.

He’s clad in a dark blue full-skirted knee-length velvet coat, accompanied with a dark blue waistcoat and a white linen shirt. The look was completed with a pair of black knee breeches, silk stocking and black leather shoes. His hair was tied back with a black ribbon, but some of his curls refused to be held back, especially one errant one which kept falling across his forehead. In comparison with her mask, his was rather sombre, but still very elegant. The mask covered his cheeks and nose, giving his eyes extra intensity since they were now surrounded by golden and dark blue lines.

As she gazes at him, Abby realises with a start that even though they couldn’t have known what the other would be wearing to the ball, their outfits complimented each other perfectly. The colours of their clothes reminded her of emeralds and sapphires and how well they fit together. The idea of them being suited for each other causes a warm feeling to spread all over her body.

"Ah, but you see, I’m not alone right this moment my fair lady. Besides, I'm more than content with merely observing the festivities than participating. I fear that dancing isn’t a skill I’ve sufficiently mastered." 

“I’m certain that isn’t entirely true, but even if it were, there would still be a line of women more than happy to teach you how to dance,” Abby replies as a teasing note creeps into her voice.

"That’s very kind of you to say, but unfortunately there is only one woman I want to share a dance with," Marcus utters as he gazes into Abby's eyes and observes the way her chest is slightly heaving or how her eyes widen.

"Unfortunately?" she softly inquires before taking a small step forwards until his hand brushes against her skirts.

"Nothing could ever come from it,” he mutters, while his gaze is trained on the fingers of his left hand which are gently stroking the fabric of her dress.

"How can you be so certain? Perhaps if you asked her, she could surprise you,” Abby replies as her eyes flicker towards his hand as well.

Marcus shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle, “I sincerely doubt it. A man like myself doesn’t and could never deserve someone like her.”

"I think you’re wrong. Any woman should be most fortunate to have you as a partner,” she softly whispers with her gaze averted as she takes a step backwards causing his hand to drop between them.

The quiet utterance is so unexpected and more forward than he ever dreamed his queen of being, that Marcus’ momentarily rendered speechless.

A sudden heaviness seeps into the air between them and they both wordlessly accept a goblet of sweet wine when a servant stops before them with a tray before moving on to the other guests.

"The princess seems to be enjoying herself," Marcus comments after a couple of seconds as the young girl in question passes them mid-dance, her golden dress elegantly gliding across the room dance, with her eyes twinkling from behind her mask and a bright smile on her face.

"Yes, she is. Lord knows that she deserves some happiness after the last two heavy years. The loss of her father nearly broke her, but I’m glad that at least for one night, she can enjoy herself by dancing with her friends and behave like the 17-year-old girl she is,” Abby confides in him, and he can hear the underlying note of pain in her voice. The Princess wasn't the only one who had been nearly broken by the death of the King.

They both continue to gaze at the dance floor while taking occasional sips from their sweet wine until he hears Abby emit a heavy sigh.

"Are you ever going to ask my hand for a dance captain?" She asks, sounding exasperated and by the utterance of his title, it’s obvious that she had enough of pretending that she didn’t know him.

"Your Highness, I don't think-" Marcus starts to stammer, but she swiftly cuts him off. 

"How about you stop thinking for once? And simply _feel_?" Abby proposes in a small voice and there’s a certain hesitation laced through it, but the question is accompanied by her reaching out and placing a hand on his arm.

His eyes immediately drop to her hand, and Marcus swears he can feel the warmth of her touch through all three layers of clothing. This is the closest she's been in quite some time or at least the closest he has allowed himself to be in her presence. His feelings towards his Queen were never _simply_ platonic or _strictly_ professional, but ever since the death of King Jacob, they refused to stay hidden. There had been instances where he had nearly let slip his considerable amount of self-control and gathered her in his arms. Realising that his affection wouldn’t be welcomed, especially not so soon after her husband’s death and certainly not from _him_ , a simple soldier, Marcus had tried his best to limit their interaction. Which had been a difficult feat, with him being the head of the Queen’s guard and it had done nothing to temper his affection for her.

Marcus still remembers the hurt look in her eyes the first time he had refused to accompany her on their daily walks through the gardens after their morning meeting and the times after that, until one day she had simply walked out of the room after adjourning the meeting, not even stopping to pose the question. Her clear dismissal caused him more pain than anything he had ever experienced, even though she had ever right to do so.

So now after weeks of minimal contact having her hand on his arm, having this innocent form of physical contact, feels staggeringly intimate and all of his feelings come flooding back and they threaten to overwhelm him with their intensity. Knowing that he shouldn’t, that he should move back and re-establish a more proper and respectable amount of space between them, but unable to do so because his senses are muddled by her close proximity, he covers her hand with one of his own.

"Abigail -" her Christian name slips from between his lips, something he has dreamed of doing but hasn’t done so since they were mere children, and he sincerely hopes that nobody can hear him addressing the Queen so informally. At the utterance of her name, something akin hope seems to appear in her eyes as she takes another small step in his direction.

"Captain  _please_. I know that you’re an honourable man and you would never dare to presume how I feel or doing anything out of fear of making me feel uncomfortable. But I’ve also seen the look in your eyes whenever you think I’m not looking or how you’re always there for me when I need you. And I know that you believe that by feeling the way you do, you’re betraying Jacob because he was not only your King, but also your friend, but I can assure you that you’re not Marcus. I’ve been a widow for almost two years and I know that he would want me to find someone I can turn to. And I have. It’s you Marcus, it’s been you for a while and it’ll always be you. So please, I’m pleading with you, take a leap of faith and ask me the question you’ve been wanting to ask,” she murmurs with a small smile, her eyes shining with tears.

Taking a deep breath Marcus gazes at her, not knowing how to react. He’s dumbfounded that _she_ , the woman that had captured his heart so many years ago without even realising what she had done, reciprocates his affection. Not trusting his voice he gives her a short nod and bows. It’s only after a couple of seconds that he manages to address her, his voice still trembling with heavy emotion. "Would your Highness do me the honour of accepting this dance?" 

"She would love nothing more,” she replies with a smile so bright all the precious stones adorning her mask pale in comparison.

Accepting his outstretched arm, they make their way towards the dance floor and people immediately part, creating a path for them and Marcus is starting to feel self-conscious about being on the receiving end of all those inquisitive looks, but Abby gives his arm a comforting squeeze which gives him a new surge of confidence and he straightens his back.

As they move into the proper dance position, they’re both aware that all the eyes of the remaining court are on them and Marcus decides to keep a respectable distance between them. She might return his affection, but he does not want to subject her to a potential scandal, even though they both have heard whispers about their alleged entanglement. Abby’s left hand glides in his while her other one settles on his shoulder. His remaining hand settles on her back, its position is high enough for it to be still appropriate, but perhaps a bit lower than should be allowed for the head of the Queen’s Guard.

Before they can even start to dance a familiar head of blonde curls in a golden dress comes to a halt in front of them.

"I see that you've finally mustered the courage to ask my mother for a dance Captain Kane. You have no idea how happy that makes me. Not only for bringing a smile on my mother’s face, but also for inadvertently making me the winner of a wager I had placed with Miss Reyes,” the young girl states, humor lacing her voice.

Noticing the blush that appears on the captain’s cheeks, Abby lets out a soft giggle before gently admonishing her daughter. “Clarke, stop teasing the Captain like that.”

"I apologise Captain, I meant no harm," she confesses with a small nod.

"Oh, that's quite alright Princess and I see that I’m not the only one who finally took a leap of faith,” he comments with a sly nod to her dance partner, Prince Roan. 

Now it’s the Princess’ turn to blush. “Well, it is _my_ birthday after all,” she replies, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“It certainly is. Enjoy your dance, Princess.”

“Thank you Captain. Same goes for you,” Clarke smirks before resuming her dance with Roan.

Both Marcus and Abby watch the young girl move away with soft smiles on their faces.

“She truly turned into a beautiful and intelligent young woman and someday she’ll make an excellent and righteous queen,” he claims.

“I simply hope that her reign will be less turbulent and painful than mine has been,” Abby murmurs, her eyes still trained on her daughter.

“She’s strong, just like her mother. Besides, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that she’ll stay safe,” Marcus promises her and the seriousness of his tone causes a small but sincere smile to appear on her face.

“I know you will Captain and you have my eternal gratitude for ensuring both mine and my daughter’s safety throughout the years," she replies before grinning. "Now, I do believe you promised me a dance and while we're already on the dance floor, we have yet to move," she teases, causing him to chuckle. 

“You’re absolutely right your Highness, I apologise,” he concedes with a smirk of his own, before tightening his grip on her hand as he starts to guide her across the floor.

It should shock him how gracefully they’re moving, or how perfectly she fits against him, but all he can feel is how _right_ dancing with her feels. In his weaker moments, after he had consumed some ale or sweet wine, or even at night, thoughts of holding her in his arms would invade his mind and his dreams, but even his most treasured fantasy paled in comparison with the reality of having her in his arms. The warmth of her skin beneath his touch, the smell of her perfume surrounding him, the radiant smile she bestowed on him or even the intensity of her gaze, these were all details none of his daydreams did any justice to.

Taking a small step closer, he’s aware of the way her breath catches in her throat or how her eyes seem to sparkle when he slides his hand just a little bit lower on her back.

“It seems like you were right after all, your Highness. You did manage to surprise me,” he murmurs in a low voice, his head slightly turned so he can whisper in her ear.

He feels a puff of warm air ghosts across his cheek as she lets out a soft giggle.

“Oh, don’t you know Captain? I’m _always_ right.”  

“So you are, so you are,” Marcus concedes before lifting his head so he can look her in the eyes. “Thank you for not giving up on me,” he confesses, his gaze warm and affectionate.

“Thank _you_ for taking that leap of faith,” Abby counters as she briefly removes the hand resting on his shoulder in order to cup his cheek.

With a smile he leans into her caress. “I could never refuse my Queen.”

“Well then Captain, I’d like another dance,” she commands, her eyes shining with amusement.

“As you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


End file.
